One To Watch(79)

“Hit me,” he whispered.

“What?!” Bea yanked her hand back. “You’re insane.”

“You have never done this before? A little slap?”

“Um, no, Luc. I haven’t.”

His eyes flashed. “A virgin.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you are afraid.” He stepped closer. “When Jefferson said these awful things about you, you said it was easier to believe him because if he is right, and we do not care about you, then you can’t really be hurt. But this is not the real reason you believed him.”

“What do you mean?” Bea asked, not sure she wanted to know.

“The truth is, you believed him because this is how you see yourself. But it is not how I see you. And I want you to know how it feels to be this woman I see.”

His breath was hot, his hands were strong, always pulling at her, always pushing.

“I don’t want to be a joke,” she whispered.

“You aren’t one.” He nipped at her ear. “I promise.”

She looked up at him—this was crazy.

“What if I hurt you?”

“We are only human,” he urged. “We hurt each other all the time.”

Adrenaline coursed through her as she took a step back, never breaking eye contact with Luc. “You’re sure?”

He gave her the barest grin. “Oui, mademoiselle.”

Bea smiled. “Okay, then.”

She brought back her hand and let it fly.





TRANSCRIPT OF CHAT FROM #SQUEEZE-MAINIACS SLACK CHANNEL


Colin7784: HOLY SHIT, SHE SLAPPED HIM

Beth.Malone: COLIN, NO SPOILERS THE EPISODE ISN’T EVEN OVER YET

Colin7784: Sorry sorry holy shit

NickiG: What the hell just happened

KeyboardCat: I am so turned on right now

Enna-Jay: HE’S KISSING HER HE’S KISSING HER AGAINST A WALL

NickiG: This is the best television of my life

Beth.Malone: Guys, come on, PLEASE NO SPOILERS

Colin7784: We’re literally all here watching right now, who would we even be spoiling?

Beth.Malone: The rules are important! They have to mean something!

NickiG: Lol ok Mistress Beth

Beth.Malone: Oh my god, please never call me that again

Colin7784: Or what? Will you punish us, Mistress Beth?

Beth.Malone:

Colin7784:

Enna-Jay:

NickiG:

Beth.Malone:

KeyboardCat:





FLYER POSTED IN THE BOONE, OKLAHOMA, FARM SUPPLY MART


TOMORROW: TRACTOR PARADE

HIGHWAY 47–12PM

WELCOME HOME WYATT

FROM MAIN SQUEEZE!!!!


BRING FOOD

IF YOU WANT





Wyatt had promised Bea a tractor if she visited his family’s farm, but when she met him at the main street in the center of Boone, she found he’d done her one better: There was a parade of a dozen tractors flanked by hundreds of onlookers—it seemed the whole town had shown up to wish Wyatt well and meet the girl he’d brought home.

“Oh my gosh.” Bea laughed as he helped her climb into the gleaming red tractor beside him. “This is unbelievable!”

“There are farms where you’re from—no one’s ever taken you to a tractor parade?”

“No one.” Bea threaded her arm through his. “You’re my first.”

Bea hadn’t meant the line to be a double entendre, but from the way Wyatt blushed and looked away, she worried she’d embarrassed him. They still hadn’t really talked about his virginity, about why he hadn’t had sex or what that might mean for their potential relationship. But given how much faster things were progressing with the other three men in that department (particularly in light of the incredibly sexy afternoon she’d spent making out with Luc pressed up against a brick building on the Chelsea High Line), Bea knew they’d have to discuss it today—just hopefully not in front of Wyatt’s family.

Bea and Wyatt leaned out of their respective tractor windows and waved to the crowd, who cheered and even shouted their names. After they’d made their loop on the tractor, Wyatt helped Bea down so they could mingle with the crowd and enjoy some lemonade.

“You can’t eat any of that potluck, though,” Wyatt told Bea. “There’ll be hell to pay with my mom if we don’t come home hungry.”

The group at the tractor parade was warm and unpretentious, and it was such a relief to be seen as normal, to feel normal, even in the midst of a parade thrown in her honor.

Back at the farm for lunch, though, the pressure was a little higher as Bea met Wyatt’s mother, Hattie, his sister, Peg, her husband, Miguel, and their two kids.

“Have you tried the bread yet?” asked Hattie. “We make it with the wheat we grow right here on the farm.”

“It’s amazing.” Bea could barely speak through the mouthful of warm, fresh brown bread. Maybe she’d given farm living short shrift after all.

“That recipe has been in our family for four generations,” Hattie explained. “Now, what about you, Bea—do you bake? I know you can eat!”

Hattie laughed good-naturedly—she was no small woman herself.